Hey, don't look at me
by screaminheathen69
Summary: The Earth goes boom. House is involved. Of course.


Summary: The Earth goes boom. House is involved. Of course.

Notes: Silly plot bunnies. I need a bigger gun…

Disclaimer: So very not mine. No money bein' made here. No money bein' made anywhere else either. I need a drink…

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HEY, DON'T LOOK AT ME

By screaminheathen69

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St. Peter was just the tiniest bit exasperated.

Of course, you would be too, if you had to process slightly over five billion human souls through the Pearly Gates. Not to mention all the other assorted life forms newly arrived from the recently demolished Planet Earth.

Huh? Oh, right. Sorry. The Earth just exploded. Did I forget to mention that? Probably should've said that right up front. I'm a bit absent-minded on occasion. You understand.

Anyhoo, exasperated, five billion souls, etc., etc. (If you're wondering where the other billion-odd souls went, well, you should keep in mind that _other _destination. Further south. Very warm. Or so I'm told. Really don't plan on findin' out, myself.)

The whole thing _did_ come as something as a shock. The End Of The Earth wasn't scheduled until the year Five Billion and Twenty-Three. March 23rd, to be exact. So when it happened in 2008, you'll understand the surprise, I'm sure.

Why, St. Peter was so overwhelmed, he had to draft a few thousand angels to help him sort everyone out. They were positively _thrilled_, let me tell you. There job was to sing songs and smite evil, not do secretarial work.

And then, of course, there were the five-sixths of humanity, stuck stood standing in line, waiting to pass through the Pearly Gates. It was, believe it or not, slow going. (There's bureaucratic nonsense to be dealt with even in Heaven. One of the Universal Constants.)

So the people, being people, passed the time the best way they knew how. They gossiped. Well, I say gossip. Some of it was. A great lot of it, truth be told. There was also a great deal of debate about exactly what it was that made the Earth go all kablooey.

It _was_ a matter of great interest, after all.

Theories did abound. Not a one of 'em was right, mind you, but many a theory was passed around that long, long line. It helped to pass the time.

Now, there was a fair amount of theorizing going on amongst the staff of the Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital as well, but (oddly enough) none of it had to do with their recent planetlessness.

No, it all had to do with just _two _people. Those two being one Doctor Gregory House and one Doctor Lisa Cuddy.

Specifically the fact that they were standing there happily, smiling away, holding hands.

Yeah, that's what I said. _Holding hands!_

Oh, and then there was the whole _kissing _thing.

_Kissing! _And lots of it. It could even be qualified as making out.

Why, the whole staff was positively bumfuzzled. (That's shocked. Or confused. Or stunned. Or befuddled. Or… Oh, you get the idea.)

Wilson was looking insufferably pleased with himself, however. We'll deal with that in a minute…

After a bit (a _long _bit), an angel came plodding along, tiredly punching names into his PDA. Taub was pretty sure it was a Blackberry. He stopped in front of Cuddy. "Name?"

"Lisa Cuddy."

The angel typed her name into the PDA, then glanced up at House. "And you?"

"Greg House."

The angel stopped typing and glared at House. "Oh. It's _you_."

House frowned. "Um, yeah. I suppose so."

The angel shook his head and went back to his typing. "Leave it to you. Just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you. Couldn't maintain the status quo, _nooooo_…"

Cuddy took a step forward, still holding House's hand. "I'm sorry, but what was that?"

The angel heaved a great, put upon sigh. "It was _him. _He said what he said, and…" He made _kaboom _noise and mimicked an explosion with his hands. "Nobody thought it'd ever happen. 'Not Greg House, he'd never actually do _that_…' Sheesh…" He wandered on down the line, taking names and muttering under his breath.

House felt the weight of several hundred eyes bearing down on him. "Hey, don't look at _me_." He pointed at Wilson, who was very busy studying his shoes. "_He's_ the one that told me the world wouldn't end if I just got over myself and told her I loved her."

James Wilson suddenly found himself the center of attention. He at least had the good grace to be embarrassed. He gave a little wave. "Umm… Sorry?"

The angel was very carefully looking the other way as Foreman and Cameron smacked Wilson upside the head…

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…_To thee no star be dark_


End file.
